


Blue Eyes and Dandelions

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-03-24
Updated: 2004-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viggo meets an unlikely fan when he goes to the park trying to clear his mind. Hinted Viggo/Orli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Eyes and Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

The trip to the park was supposed to clear my mind, but nothing ever did that. It only made me itch for my camera or at least pad and pencil to defile with some morbid prose that fit my mood. In fact, I would have taken at least one of those things along, but the pencil still had elf germs from where he grasped it to write his quick goodbye, my camera held pictures that I’d like to forget forever. And the entire point of going there was to clear my mind.

There had been no tears. I was an actor, and knew how to produce tears on cue; taking off my face and putting on someone else’s face, someone else’s accent, someone's else's feelings. But nowhere in the contract had it said you got to put your own face back on at the end. Now, I don’t think I could have cried if my life had depended on it.

Treading on the soft grass, I found myself fascinated by a simple dandelion. A perfect gray sphere of silky-fuzzy fluff, so beautiful and fragile. I remembered when I would pluck it up and make a silly wish and blow on it. I’d watch the lovely fluff float away on the breeze, belatedly wishing I’d taken the time to paint it first... But they always disintegrate before you can take them home to paint them.

I realized I wasn’t thinking about the dandelion anymore. Sitting down heavily on a bench, I took in the world around me. A sunny Saturday morning where anyone in their right mind would be sleeping in, snuggled up next to their- Well, I wasn’t exactly in my right mind now was I? But it was morning, and sunny, and I smiled at the sight of a tiny girl in a baby blue dress frolicking around the grass, her doting parents sitting on a bench nearby holding hands. The girl was chasing a butterfly and leaping up to bat at it, and when she couldn’t catch it she opted for a roly-poly search. Or whatever she was doing squatting to poke through the grass, her skirt poofing around her gracefully. Perhaps she was looking for a four-leafed clover (I remembered doing so at her age, so vividly) and I hoped she would find one.

Her dress was pale blue, her hair wispy ringlets of blonde, her shoes classic Mary Janes. She was dancing now, spinning around and around with her face turned towards the bright sky. Without warning, she toppled over onto her stomach, sitting there dazedly for a moment before focusing on the grass in front of her and rifling through it once more. Never had I so longed for my camera.

She was adorable to say the least, and without a doubt would grow into quite the beautiful young lady. Worthy of Hollywood and its lure of passing fame, but look at her now; totally untainted by the superficial world and its lies, playing in the grass like the entire park were her own. I wanted to run and embrace her and plead with her never to become an actress and ruin such a perfect life.

I saw her looking my way curiously. I smiled, inclining my head politely, and looked away. Would I have the girl point me out to her parents, and have them send her over here with a pen, wanting Aragorn to sign his name on her hand pretty please? No; Aragorn’s not here, it’s only a pretender with a funny name like Viggo. And what little girl wants that written on her hand?

With unseeing eyes I watched various people stroll by, trying to find a single lasting happy memory. When I felt the barest touch on my knee, I jumped and turned back around.

There was the girl in the pretty blue dress, looking up at me with matching Bambi eyes and pouty lips that even Frodo could not compete with. Holding her hands behind her back, she was blushing furiously.

“Mister, I have a present for you,” she lisped. In a tiny fist she held up a yellow flower, as bright and happy as her face as I reached out to take it. A dandelion; nothing more, nothing less.

I found my voice somewhere and managed to say hoarsely, “Thank you.”

Giggling like only a toddler can, she skipped away and I cried.

The End


End file.
